


A Strange, Little Love

by Sukei



Category: Hello Charlotte (Video Games)
Genre: BDSM Scene, Biting, Blood As Lube, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Bloodplay, Consensual Non-Consent, Consensual Underage Sex, Dom/sub, F/F, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, My First Smut, Out of Character, Period Kink, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Play, Q84 addressed as Caer, but its cause its a scene, mentions of bullying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:35:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23371798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sukei/pseuds/Sukei
Summary: “Well, Caer…” She started, ferocity littering the softly spoken words as a poor imitation of kindness planted itself over her features, “Don’t you want it to be even?”She pulled harsher, and Caer nodded.“Let’s settle this, then.”Henrietta removed her hand from where it was fisted in her hair, the knot twisting uncomfortably before loosening for good; Caer sighed in relief.In a swift motion, Henrietta offered her wrist, unmarred besides the blue veins showing starkly beneath a thin layer of skin.When the other made no move, she gave them a little push, cocking her head, “Well?”“It’s okay, Caer,” She whispered in that warm, nearly inaudible voice of hers, “Do it.”Caer...the girl who bit.Leaned forward, face still a mess of blood and emotion, and bit down, hard enough to bleed; hard enough to hurt.Henrietta seemed elated, sighing deeply and shoving her nose in the other’s neck, “Good girl.”
Relationships: Implied Bennett/Felix Honikker, Q84/Anri Warhol
Kudos: 12





	A Strange, Little Love

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote the first part separately, so I apologise if it seems somewhat disjointed, but it's all just setup for their scene, including Q84's thinking, Anri being her victim, and the mention of Scarlett.
> 
> This is noncanonical, but my headcanon name for Q84 is Caerwyn Beumains, which I used for this fic to get rid of the awkward feeling of using Q84, and the confusion of using Charlotte. Also, in canon, they're both underage, I believe, but this is not important, nor mentioned in the fic.

Caer; the girl who bit.

She smiled something stupidly smug, lips curling into the grin she felt was appropriate for the eyes of her peers. It was a snarl of sorts, sharp edges and broken glass to match the pallour of tired eyes and gaunt skin.

Henrietta didn’t know. The victim of her crimes so very often, left on the sidelines as a beloved tormentor, cheating on her with that troublesome redhead.

She’d found paleness turning purple beneath shaking hands, tears staring at tears as the two trembled and fought like little children, biting and tussling on the floor. Soft hair, pulled harshly beneath hands the colour of paper, suddenly stained the same,

A paper princess, soiled and sullied with ink.

She remembers stumbling back from the scarlet, remembers Anri’s eyes, wide and unbroken in their stares as she passed her by, sprinting down school halls as the colour dried to black. The blood on her face that didn’t belong, dripping dreadfully down a skinny arm to stain a picture-perfect sleeve.

Caer had bit her, hard enough to bleed; hard enough to  _ hurt. _

Henrietta had stared in confusion as she fled, concern flashing through the eyes of someone far too kind for Caer’s taste.

Scarlett had turned crimson as her hair, quiet as usual through their one-sided fight, silent as the teeth sunk into her wrist, clipped a vein, and spurt out onto her clothes. She looked dead, murdered, maybe even mauled, and laid perfectly still except for the occasional, shuddering breath.

The taste of metal on Caer’s tongue wasn’t what made her struggle not to puke.

Her canines were red, matching the clump of hair in her hands, the stain on her shirt, and the odd lust in her eyes.

The mirror wasn’t kind, per say, but it wasn’t honest, either; more red was birthed as her fist collided with the polished surface. Stunted and angry, a breathy, contained sort of sob bubbled in her throat, it was jarring and practically unrecognisable beneath the cracked surface containing herself.

  
  


Everything was red, red,  _ red. _

  
  


The door creaked, but Caer couldn’t hear beneath the blood rushing in her ears and into her heart, clotting the wound she didn’t have. Her vision was darkened, layered lines on the very edge that threatened to throw her to the wolves of unconsciousness.

Henrietta reached out, and she  _ flinched. _

The recognisable, black hair she’d tugged far too many times, and that little,  _ infuriating _ smile of hers, warm and sorrowful and so full of love for others.

Henrietta wasn’t red, didn’t deserve to be red like  _ her. _

Caer pulled away, shaking her head and stammering refusal, back pressed against the bathroom wall. The brunette seemed confused, but also...dismissive? There was a glimmer of amusement amongst pity, like predator watching prey...or, maybe more an adult at a scared child.

“Don’t you  _ dare, _ touch me…!”

“...Why?” She asked in return, a question Caer couldn’t even hope to answer, “You wouldn’t do it again, would you?”

“N-No! I...I never meant to-”

Henrietta tsked, reaching out a hand until it was nearly touching her cheek, “But you did.”

Caer whimpered, feeling fear suddenly strike her stomach, her knees shaking as a warmth enveloped her face, the hand making contact and gently stroking, soft as ever. Another step in her direction, clear cut and dominant, and, in a single movement, Henrietta’s other hand had a harsh grip on her hair. She pulled the white locks taunt, Caer’s head following the strands with a wince as a few came loose.

She smiled, that same predatory look in her eyes, and Caer felt oh so small beneath her gaze.

Nearly a minute passed, a little moment where there was nothing but pain and eye contact, the sound of harsh breaths and bitten back sounds as the pull increased.

“Well, Caer…” She started, ferocity littering the softly spoken words as a poor imitation of kindness planted itself over her features, “Don’t you want it to be even?”

She pulled harsher, and Caer nodded.

  
“Let’s settle this, then.”

Henrietta removed her hand from where it was fisted in her hair, the knot twisting uncomfortably before loosening for good; Caer sighed in relief.

In a swift motion, Henrietta offered her wrist, unmarred besides the blue veins showing starkly beneath a thin layer of skin.

When the other made no move, she gave them a little push, cocking her head, “Well?”

Caer sniffled, turning her gaze to the tiled floor, fingers brushing against her own face and imagining the blood on her mouth and teeth, disgust ringing in her sense. Henrietta growled a bit, pressing her fingers into the flecked, dried substance marking the other’s cheek. The anger lasted a mere second before it shifted, and, instead, her finger brushed away the leaking tear from Caer’s face.

“It’s okay,  _ Caer,” _ She whispered in that warm, nearly inaudible voice of hers, “Do it.”

Caer...the girl who bit.

Leaned forward, face still a mess of blood and emotion, and bit down, hard enough to bleed; hard enough to  _ hurt. _

Henrietta seemed elated, sighing deeply and shoving her nose in the other’s neck, “Good girl.”

  
  


“That’s my little monster.”

And everything was red...red... _ red… _

  
  


“I’m sorry…! I’m so sorry, Anri…!” Caer sobbed against her hair.

But Henrietta just kept smiling.

“Don’t be.”

  
  


It was bold as it was heated, warm in all the right and wrong places, and her hand, slowly, ever so slowly, released itself from Caer’s face, the other still rimmed with blood dribbling onto the tiles. She pressed it into Caer’s lips until they cracked, until she began sucking in earnest to contain the spill and Anri smiled something awful.

Her free hand was as ravenous as Caer seemed, trailing slowly up the other girl’s thigh in a fluid little motion, teasing the pale skin into a full-body flush.   
  
She shook her head, releasing her teeth and trailing blood along her face, staring at the bathroom’s entrance with wide eyes, “Ah- Anri…! Someone could-!”

“Shhh…” She pressed more firmly to silence the struggle.

“Nnnn, An- Anri, stop…” Caer tried, weakly shoving against her form as she pressed closer, hands heated as they found somewhere she didn’t dare name. Embarrassment flooded her senses, red hot and bursting at the seams as her other crept up, quiet and soft, insistently pressing her wrist back to Caer’s mouth.

“C’mon…” Anri encouraged, pressing against her roughly and praising like an owner, a misread temptation to cup the other girl’s neck like a collar if she could spare an arm… Ah… She let her hand fall, listening to the little whine as Caer ripped her skin a bit more in accidental protest.

Quickly, her leg shot up to replace the sensation, sending her tumbling into the smaller girl until she was bent over her, precariously balanced against the tiles, a little picture-perfect statue of static lovers...but moving in a rhythm unlike stone. Anri’s hand crept up to her pretty pink neck, pressing firmly at the base and just barely holding on as if to admire the image. Her leg rubbed harder in a sort of reward, and while she returned to her previous position, the musing of the monster in chains was enough to rile her up.

Caer was whimpering a little, a poor little deprived pet of hers, how sad! If only she could keep her like this without protest, saliva dripping down onto her forearm in earnest as though it were a carnivore drooling at the scent of the wound. How she’d love the press and pull even as Caer may protest, may lose her grip with too dull canines…

Then, another idea popped into her head, the smirk widening to match lovesick eyes, and she thanked her lucky stars she was ambidextrous as her left flew to the ribbon in her hair. Again, her beast wiggled and whined, but she kept her still, letting a spare finger drift into the moistness left on her upper lip. The flush grew, and Anri knew she’d won the game before it’d truly began, even with a pigtail gone and a bloody wrist.

The ribbon was pulled tight against Caer’s head, and Anri briefly dreamed of that collar again, and just how much easier it’d be to keep her close… No matter, the fantasy was all but confirmed for reality the moment she’d desired it, the quivering of the girl beneath her a hearty clue as she kept still for the knot.

“Little beast...are you hungry?” She drawled, unbuttoning the high collar of the white shirt and letting it drift beneath, “You’ll hold the muzzle, won’t you? Then you’ll get a treat…”

She waited as long as it took for Caer to nod, blush turning more pink than red and her knees wobbling insatiably. Anri responded in earnest, deft fingers trailing their way to where her shirt tucked into her skirt at the waist, and pulling eagerly to lighten the restriction. In a bitter move of passion and heat, she let her hand briefly fall just low enough to find a certain waistband, cold fingers finding a moist heat that shuddered beneath her touch.

“Nnnn,” Caer twitched, still holding firmly but a moan threatening to lessen the hold, the effort was commendable, however, so Anri found it in her heart to provide a treat. Something like a small little additive to the temperature change, cooling the core with a press of ice cold nails on her clit. Tears were prickling in the other’s clenched eyes, her jaw pulsating with aches and pains, the sight was enough to spur the moment further.

Such a good beast she owned, warbling and wallowing in the corner of its cage, but never fleeing the punishment its master gave. Her perfect little monster of a girl…!

She trailed her nails in a slow rhythm, like icy winds flipping hair back into one’s face at speeds harsh enough to make even the smallest strands hurt. They warmed with the motion, but she kept herself in the agonising pace, dipping in and out of her warmth, stopping to trail her hand back up her stomach when Caer breathed a little too hard.

The little breathy noises were almost enough to grant pity, but it was the sharpening on the burn that Anri truly craved, the sweet jam of canine into skin to match her nail scraping against her heat so forcefully it almost hurt. The blood dribbling down Caer’s mouth, trailing down her chest, past her breasts and finding a home as it pooled against her panties. Anri greedily and carefully hitched them down, ignoring the protest and watching the drip return with the shakes and cries, watching it leave her navel and find its home on the floor after leaving the valley of her legs.

Her fingers swept across the still-wet stream like a sudden dam, wetting the tips and only serving to pinken Caer’s heat all the more as she rubbed her essence in with pleasure. The white of her clothes marred with red, the pink of her skin coated in sharp white scratches and pretty red liquid seeking salvation, with even a few, large clots splatting onto the other girl’s stomach as the two milked the wound.

“So pretty…” Anri decided, territory thoroughly marked with the scent of her very being, she shuddered, bringing her head flush to the other girl’s waist and slowly lapping at the clean areas, trailing all the way to her neck and pulling the skin between her teeth. Caer fully shuddered at the sensation, legs pressing together to keep themselves up, body unsure as to whether or not it should chase or shy away from the touch.

Anri crept across her neck, prickling it with pulling and spit, but never biting down herself, watching as a ring of bruises formed so furiously to keep track. Again, she trailed her tongue against her skin, following the blood downwards as her arm bent awkwardly until she was face-to-face with Cae’s androgynous zone. That smile was back, promising as it was threatening, before disappearing behind concentration, teeth  _ dragging _ against the clit, but, again, not quite biting down.

Caer was inconsolable at this, whimpering and shoving at the other girl, desperately clamping her teeth in harsher as a long groan escaped her clenched teeth and begged her to continue. Anri could tell she’d be saying please again and again if she’d given her permission, but she hadn’t, and without hearing it, who could say what Caer wanted, right? So she kept pace, teeth finding their place alongside her tongue as it brushed in slow circles, hand slowly tracing just around the moistness of her entrance.

Again, Caer pushed, needy and begging as her face was blotted with frustrated tears, sweat, and yet more blood mixing with the two. The torment was soon to end, the start emphasised by a harsh  _ suck _ between the folds, finding its place at her hardness and holding on without remorse as Caer practically  _ growled _ in place of whatever words were trapped in her mind, trapped in her  _ bite. _

Anri let her fingers push in carefully around the area, circling her hole with a quick motion, blotting it with blood and finally making itself at home inside her. Her tongue dipped in to follow, and,  _ god _ she was right, right about the smell, the behaviour,  _ everything. _

Period blood found itself brushing against her tongue, the inner lining salty as it was coppery, the only blood she’d accept Caer to shed, after all, Caer was  _ her _ girl who  _ bit. _ Still, what a taste, what a sensation, flavour bursting against her mouth like she was swallowing the empty womb. Caer seemed utterly mortified, but the feeling was far outweighed by her rampant whines, and muffled begging for Anri  _ not to stop, please don’t stop! _

Perfect little beast, Anri’s, all Anri’s, all of her insides claimed by Anri’s blood as Caer’s own spilled into her mouth, hardened clit and stiffened posture all influenced by her own actions. And like a present to herself, unwrapping and beautifully undone, Caer practically  _ dropped _ onto her face as she came, sliding down from where her sweaty back pressed against the wall, and still holding earnestly onto Anri’s wrist as she made a sort of high-pitched sound, a whimper mixed with a plea, all for Anri.

Slowly, Anri rode out the feeling, tasting a sweetness alongside the slick, clotted copper of her lining, and let go with a soft pop of puckered lips and a long breath. There was a mess in her own skirt, fabric squished against liquid bliss that seemed to sag as she found her place with Caer on the floor, carefully hiking the other girl’s panties back up and directing her until she sat on Anri’s lap and let her jaw release alongside the unknotted ribbon.

Anri pulled her phone out of her cardigan, still bloodied despite where she’d pushed the sleeves up, and snapped a photo of the two, Caer’s shirt still undone and her chest still coated in blood. The flash went off, but Caer didn’t respond, and Anri cooed at this, pulling her arms over the other girl and softly messing with her breasts where the blood had begun to dry or congeal. The photo was one of many lining her walls at home,  _ Caer’s _ home, where she’d begun sleeping after too many after school days spent guiding her back home, still in subspace.

Fuck her family anyways, their care for her deadbeat brother could never outweigh the sheer love that cornered Caer every time with lustful demands. That let her beloved little beast drop her train of thought and find meaning in the pleasure suffering as they built a scene. The school’s lights were dimmed by the time they emerged, Anri carefully leading the other girl by her hand, as usual, both still streaked with red like they’d been witness to a murder.

They found their place down the streets and to Caer’s apartment, her cardigan softly draped over her girl where neither had had the coordination or energy to rebutton her shirt. Felix seemed angry at the pair, crossing his arms and glaring at them while Bennett merely tugged at her disheveled sleeve and urged them to continue their makeout session, the TV playing some sort of drama that illuminated their forms on the couch. Anri paid them no mind, and Caer simply couldn’t, not even as she guided off her clothes and untied her hair, and scrubbed at the blood in the shower, barely pressing their chests together in a little instance of indulgence before the pink completely washed away.

Anri bandaged her wrist before they found themselves at home in Caer’s...well,  _ their _ bed, softly combing through her girl’s white strands, even as their dampness collected on the sheets alongside her own freed black hair. Caer came too slowly, like a little puppy finding the sunlight of the morning on its eyes, it was always so beautiful to watch those eyes being relit…

“Annriii…” She tried, jaw still bruised and aching, but, thankfully, no longer lined with drying saliva.

“Morning, Caer,” Anri finally said, twirling a piece of her hair around her fingers and dropping the titles at last, “Are you satisfied with your punishment?”

Caer snorted, burrowing into Anri’s naked chest, “Mhmm, now make me pancakes.”

Caer...the girl who bit...at Anri’s baited hook, line, and sinker.


End file.
